


Bend, Don't Break

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternative Universe - All Human, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, OH implied child abuse??, and also slight smoking/drinking going on, i'll put more as i go, id k what else to put right now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac is arguably self-destructive, and Scott may or may not be the one to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to make it clear that Allison and Scott have never dated before in this story. They’re more like really good friends, kind of like Erica and Isaac. There are enough conflicts in this story without adding that whole crackpot of drama into the mix, and I wanted Allison to be part of this story, so the only way to do that without adding in the whole Isaac jealous thing and the whole Allison/Scott awkwardness thing, I had to make it so that Allison and Scott have never dated. Jackson isn’t in this story because he moved to London, as he did in the show.
> 
> **Rating will probably change.

Isaac knows that earthquakes are caused by small shifts in the tectonic plates that make up the earth, and he knows that the most ferocious animals on the planet aren’t sharks or lions but human beings. He knows what alcohol and cigarettes smell like, and he knows that they smell a lot better when he’s feeding his own addiction rather than inhaling the scent from his father’s lips while he yells at him. He knows that heartbreak is a metaphorical term but that anyone who’s experienced the emotion would beg to differ. He also knows that all paintings fade over time, and that in millions of years, the words that he’s scribbling onto paper during an especially boring history lesson will be lost in the universe just like his favorite books. He knows that the god Hephaestus was thrown from Olympus and was crippled by his landing on the island of Lemnos and that he had to be nursed back to health by the goddess Thetis because sometimes, even gods can’t save themselves.

What Isaac doesn’t know he could write into novels and turn in to all of his grade school teachers to prove them wrong for ever thinking he was a know-it-all. Isaac’s always been hyperactively aware of everything he doesn’t know, not the other way around.

Isaac doesn’t know if his father hurts him because he’s lonely or why he has to take his shoes off inside the house when the floors always get dirty, anyway or how to roll his own cigarettes like his father does. He does not know why Hephaestus fell from Olympus or why Thetis chose to help him, and he doesn’t even know if Hephaestus really wanted to be helped in the first place. He does not know what it feels like to love someone so much that his bones ache when they’re not around, and he’s never felt his heart speed up like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode, under someone else’s hands.

And Isaac wonders, maybe, if he’s like Hephaestus, if he has the potential to be a god, but he was born waiting for his Thetis. He was born on the island of Lemnos, bruised and battered, awaiting someone to heal him until he could rise back to Olympus on his own.

\--

If anyone asks Isaac about Scott McCall, he would just shrug and reply with something along the lines of, “Yeah, I’m on the lacrosse team with him, but I don’t know him very well. Seems like a nice guy, though.” He would feign nonchalance and exude a casual demeanor. He would carefully compose his face into one of indifference.

The truth is that Isaac has had a crush on Scott McCall since his sophomore year. He would fervently deny it if anyone were to ask, but that doesn’t make the truth any less true. You see, Isaac has a patented plan that he’s dubbed “The Scott McCall Senior Year Avoidance Plan.” Said plan consists mostly of… well, avoiding Scott McCall. The reason being that he’s very, very aware of the fact that Scott is way out of his league. Scott is the best player on the lacrosse team, extremely attractive, and everyone seems to like him. He’s friends with pretty much everyone, and if someone’s not friends with him, then they probably _want_ to be. Scott is the epitome of kindness with just the right amount of popularity and a dash of that ever-endearing goofiness that drew Isaac to the boy in the first place. And Isaac? Well, Isaac’s… not really any of that. He’s good at lacrosse, but not exceptionally so. He likes to think that he’s at least a little bit attractive, but it’s not like anyone has ever asked him out or anything, so he figures that that aspect is debatable. At school, he’s just “that guy,” whereas Scott is “ _that guy_.” Isaac doesn’t think that anyone especially dislikes him, but he also knows that he only has two people in his life that he’d consider actual friends (those people being Erica and Boyd, of course). While he recognizes that he’s not a mean person, he doesn’t usually go out of his way to be nice to strangers. He’s not popular in any sense of the word, and he’s not particularly funny, he doesn’t think.

To sum it all up, he and Scott aren’t exactly the most compatible of people when Isaac examines all these qualifications, probably especially in Scott’s eyes. Thus the Scott McCall Senior Year Avoidance Plan was created the day before school started. Isaac’s pretty much making up the rules as he goes. The first rule is “Don’t talk to Scott unless Scott talks to you first.” The second rule is “If Scott does talk to you first, don’t make your stupid high school crush obvious.” The only other rule that he’s come up with so far is “Don’t let anyone find out about your stupid high school crush.” Because this _is_ high school, after all. If someone finds out that Isaac, average teenage boy, has a crush on Scott, popular teenage boy, it would spread like wildfire. So his lips are locked, and his heart closed, and he’s ready for the school year to be over with before it’s even begun.

\--

The Scott McCall Senior Year Avoidance Plan is pretty much shot to hell on the first day of school.

Scott ends up being in his math class. And science class. And English class. And English is his first period of the day. And the English teacher decided that everyone in the class would be assigned a partner. And this partner would be their partner for the entire school year. And there would be a partner project assigned to each partnership every quarter of the school year. And these projects were to be completed outside of school only. And Isaac’s partner, naturally, is Scott.

Because whatever all-knowing entity is the controller of this universe hates Isaac Lahey, obviously.

Luckily, though, after Scott takes a seat next to Isaac, there’s no room for conversation because Mr. Christianson begins immediately talking, handing out rubrics and briefly summarizing them. After that, he passes out books to the class. (When Scott hands Isaac a copy, Isaac absolutely does not pay any more attention than necessary to the way their fingers brush together. Absolutely not.)

“This,” Mr. Christianson begins, “is the first book that we’re reading this year. _1984_ by George Orwell, in which Big Brother is even more sinister than the TV series inspired by it.”

Isaac listens attentively to Mr. Christianson talk because it’s a far better alternative than letting himself remember that Scott freaking McCall is sitting right next to him. Because if he thinks about it, then he’ll get worked up over it, and he’ll let his mind wander into dangerous territory. Territory that includes the fact that they have to complete four projects together _outside of school_. They have to spend time together outside of lacrosse practice and school lessons as a _school requirement_. And this, Isaac thinks, is both a blessing and a curse.

\--

Erica finds him during his free period sitting on the bleachers outside on the lacrosse field. He’s not so much smoking a cigarette as holding it in between his fingers, the weight a comfort in his otherwise empty hands. There are people who would argue that he’s an addict (Erica being one of them, much to his endless chagrin), but he knows that he’s not. He doesn’t ever feel the _need_ to smoke. He doesn’t ever _crave_ cigarettes. It just helps relieve some of the stress in his life. And, okay, there are healthier ways to relieve stress, but when his house is full of packs of cigarettes that his father doesn’t notice go missing when Isaac takes them? He aims for accessibility, not healthfulness. If ever there comes a time when he doesn’t have the access to them, then he’ll pick up a healthier way of living. But until then, he’s content with his nasty habit.

Erica plucks the cigarette from his fingers and snuffs it out, flicking it onto the expanse of field in front of them without saying a word. Isaac doesn’t protest, as he’s used to her doing this whenever he’s smoking around her. “Need I remind you that your best friend is epileptic?” she would berate him. “Remember that one time I tried to smoke and it triggered a seizure? Cigarette smoke doesn’t do good things to epileptics, honey.”

It’s not like she’s wrong, so he’s grown accustomed to not lighting any cigarettes around her. It’s only the polite thing to do, after all.

Now, she just promptly takes a seat next to him after discarding the ugly thing and smiles smugly at him. Because of all the people he could’ve trusted with the knowledge of his secret crush, it had to be Erica Reyes. Erica Reyes, who will now never let him live down the fact that he’s partnered with Scott McCall until he does something about it. And if Isaac knows Erica (and he does) then he knows that that _something_ will have to involve a lot less studying and a lot more desperate groping for her liking, which is something that’s just not going to happen in the near future.

“ _So_ …” she sing-songs, drawing out the word until it sounds like it has an absurd amount of syllables.

“ _So_?” Isaac prompts, pulling his backpack into his lap and picking at the fraying edges around the pockets. He knows what Erica’s going to say, but if he can delay it, he’ll damn well try.

“ _So_ ,” she repeats, though this time it has a more determined edge to it. “You and Scott…?”

Isaac rolls his eyes and lightly smacks her arm. “There’s nothing there, Erica. You know that. It’s just a school project.”

“Just a school project can turn into a lot more than a school project,” she says as she leans into him, smiling up at him through her lashes and waggling her brows. “I mean, come on. Did you see the books on our rubric? Total angst-y ball-your-eyes-out shit. You can totally cry on his shoulder.”

“I’m not going to cry on his shoulder, Erica. I have a plan, remember?”

“Isaac. Honey. You know I love you. But you are an idiot.” Erica moves now so that she’s facing him, throwing one leg over the back of the bleacher that she’s sitting on and gesturing to suggest that he do the same.

Isaac groans because he really does _not_ want to do this right now. He loves Erica and all, he does, but he could definitely go without this for one day. “Erica, can you not?” he asks her exasperatedly.

“Isaac,” she says with a sort of expectance in her voice, like she just _assumes_ Isaac will do this for her. And she’s right, of course, because Erica is one of the few people that he would do anything for. Not that he would ever admit that to her. Then again, he’s pretty sure she already knows it.

So Isaac just releases a long-suffering sigh and moves his backpack so that it’s sitting on the bleacher beneath the one he’s currently occupying before following her lead, throwing a leg over the back of the bleacher and facing her. She reaches out and grabs his hands and holds them firmly in his own.

“Close your eyes,” she commands, shutting her own as she says it.

“Erica, these things never work,” Isaac complains, but he closes his eyes anyway.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a nice way to bond with my best friend. Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes, my eyes are closed.”

“Okay, good. You know what to do.” Erica tightens her grip on his hands and takes a deep breath before continuing. “Don’t forget to answer with the first thing you think of.”

“I know, E. You make me do this at least twice a week. I know the drill by now.”

“I’m just making sure. Don’t hesitate. If you hesitate, you’re a dirty liar.”

“Erica, just ask me questions so this can be over with.”

“Jeez, okay.” She clears her throat melodramatically, causing Isaac to roll his closed eyes. “Isaac Lahey, did you ever really think your stupid master plan to avoid Scott – who, by the way, is on the lacrosse team with you – would work?”

“Yes,” Isaac replies immediately because he honestly did. It’s not like they talk to each other in the locker room, and it’s not like they talk to each other on the field, and it’s not like they’ve ever had more than one or two classes together in the same year. It’s also not like Isaac went into this school year thinking that he would get partnered with Scott for a stupid year-long English assignment.

“Okay, fair enough. Isaac Lahey–”

“Is it really necessary to say my full name every time?”

“Shush!” Erica scolds before continuing in her calm demeanor. “Isaac Lahey, do you really _want_ to avoid Scott?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he insists.

“So if Scott walked up to you one day and asked you to hang out with him, you would say no?” she questions, skepticism in her voice.

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not!” Erica protests, and Isaac can tell by the tone of her voice that her eyes are now open and staring at him accusingly, so he opens his eyes as well to see that he’s right. She pulls her hands out of his and grabs him by his shoulders, scooting ever closer to him and staring directly into his eyes. “You are an idiot, Isaac. You are crushing on him so hard, and now you actually have an excuse to make your move, but you’re trying to tell me that you’re actually going to pass it up because of some stupid plan that you made that’s _already_ failed? It was doomed before it even began.”

“No, the reason I’m not ‘making my move’ because he’s way out of my league, anyway. Me asking out Scott McCall would’ve been like Jack asking out Rose.”

“Jack did ask out Rose, Isaac. Do you not remember how that whole movie revolved around their romance? Their passion? Passion that you could be sharing with Scott?”

“Okay, but do you not remember how that whole movie also ended with Jack dying? Do you see where I’m going here? I’m Jack in this scenario. No, you know what? I’m not even Jack. I’m, like… I’m Tommy.”

Erica squints her eyes and thinks for a second, but after a moment, she just stares at him blankly. “Who?”

“Exactly!” he proclaims.

“Okay, no, look,” Erica says, framing his face with her hands. “Isaac, you are my best friend. You’re practically my brother, alright? So when I say this, you know I say it with the most love I can possibly muster into one sentence, okay?”

Isaac braces for the worst because the only time Erica would say something like that is right before she insults him profusely.

“You are the biggest moron to ever grace this planet. You are absolutely stupid. Just because you’re not as good at lacrosse as him means you’re out of his league? Just because he has more friends than you means you’re not good enough for him? Hell, no. You need to stop moping around about the woes of loving Scott McCall–”

“I don’t love him,” Isaac interjects quickly, but Erica quickly waves away his protest.

“Whatever. So you need to stop moping around about the woes of being head over heels for Scott McCall. Stop brooding. Stop smoking and drinking because don’t think I don’t know that the real reason you do that is because you think you’re worthless. You’re not worthless, and Scott would not think that you’re worthless. Scott likes everyone, and he sure as hell would like you, too. So instead of destroying yourself with nicotine and alcohol, you should try maybe hanging out with Scott and letting him help you feel better about yourself instead of sinking into a lower level of self-loathing every day.”

When Erica’s done talking, they both fall eerily quiet. Isaac doesn’t know what to say in response to that, so he just stares at her, and he’s pretty sure the shock is written all over his face. Yeah, Erica’s his best friend, but she’s never said something like that to him, not while he was sober, anyway, and it strikes him in that moment how very true everything that she just said is. He doesn’t smoke because he thinks he’s worthless, but when he really thinks about it, that is why he drinks. He only ever drinks when he feels utterly unimportant. And those also usually happen to be the nights he sneaks out and climbs into Erica’s bedroom window at three in the morning, so he knows that she knows what she’s talking about. He’s pretty sure he’s drunkenly ranted to her about anything and everything under the stars. He knows for a fact that she knows about his dad after one especially drunken night, and they never really talk about it out loud, but he can tell in the way she looks at him after he receives a particularly nasty-looking bruise that she knows what had happened, and she always offers him a room to stay in at her house on these days. Who knows what else he’s told her while intoxicated?

It’s not like Isaac has the worst life on the planet. He’s usually pretty content with what he has. He gets mostly good grades at school, he enjoys his friendships with Erica and Boyd, and even his home life isn’t really _that_ bad. He’s used to it by now, and the only time he ever gets really down about himself is on those nights when his father’s the one who had too much to drink or if his dad had an especially bad day at work. But, for the most part, Isaac’s… okay. So the fact that Erica is aware of just how much potential he has to completely ruin himself, that fact that she knows how much he can hate himself on bad days… that really scares him.

But then there’s suddenly a new pair of voices coming from behind the bleachers, and Erica and Isaac both turn in time to see Scott and Stiles walking out onto the lacrosse field, and it’s just Isaac’s luck that Scott has the same free period as him and also has a pension for hanging out on the lacrosse field. Isaac grabs his backpack and stands, ready to leave, and he walks down the bleachers until his feet touch the grass, Erica following behind, before he notices that Scott is approaching them.

Scott McCall is approaching Isaac Lahey, and that’s really terrifying, and he feels the “fight or flight” instinct enter his mind. He glances back at Erica, who seems to be back to her normal annoyingly smug self because she just smiles at him knowingly and pushes him forward a bit. He makes sure to send an exceptionally hard glare her way before turning back to face Scott, who’s smiling that bright grin of his and still walking towards him, and Isaac prays to any god that may be out there that he isn’t actually _blushing_.

“Hey,” Scott says to Isaac once he’s stopped and is standing in front of him, Stiles at his side. “We didn’t get a chance to talk earlier, you know, about our first project.”

Erica clears her throat loudly and walks around Isaac, grinning at him like the devil that she is. “I’m going to go find Boyd. I think he has the same free period as us.”

Isaac sends her a look that very clearly communicates “No, don’t leave me alone with Scott McCall. Best friends don’t leave best friends alone with his crush and his crush’s best friend. This is a very awkward situation that you can easily prevent.”

But Erica, obviously, does not care about preventing awkward situations. Isaac’s starting to think that she’ll go out of her way to purposely put Isaac in these types of situations. He’s also pretty sure he’s still glaring at her back as she walks away when Scott says, “Girlfriend?”

Isaac turns back to Scott and furrows his brows in confusion before he comprehends what Scott’s asking. And when he does, Isaac proceeds to make this weird (and very embarrassing, mind you) choking noise that’s mixed with a chuckle, and Isaac wants to kick himself for already making himself look like the biggest flake on the face on the planet in front of Scott.

“No,” Isaac gets out eventually. “No, definitely not. Just a friend.”

Scott’s got this amused little smile on his face, and Isaac definitely does _not_ feel his heart stutter. Not at all. “Well, I was just wondering when you wanted to start the project is all.”

Isaac blinks once at the other boy. “We just got the book today. I haven’t even started reading it yet.”

“Yeah, but I was thinking maybe we could read it together? Like a study group or something. I get distracted really easily while I read, so it’d be cool to have someone there to keep me focused.”

“Oh,” Isaac says eloquently because every red light has just turned on in his head, telling him that this is a bad, very bad, idea. And Isaac gets the feeling that reading in the same room as Scott would do the opposite of keeping him focused.

“Yeah, I mean, Stiles will probably come, too, most days,” Scott adds before Isaac has the chance to say anything else. “And he’ll bring Lydia because Lydia’s his partner. You can bring Erica and her partner, too. It’ll be like a really fun study group.”

“Sounds more like a party,” Isaac replies, but now that he knows that he and Scott won’t be the only ones there, he’s inclined to accept the offer. After all, he can’t really turn down a study group with his English partner, no matter how much he may like him.

“I’m taking that as a yes?” Scott says, his smile growing even brighter. “We can all meet up at my house after school.”

“Today?” Isaac asks in surprise.

“Yeah. The faster we finish the book, the faster we can finish the project, and then we’ll be done with it until the next quarter, right?”

Isaac nods once. “Right.”

They all hear the school bell ring in the distance, signaling the end of their free period. Isaac waits for Scott and Stiles to walk away first, and when Scott turns back to him and waves a silent goodbye, Isaac refuses to believe that it makes him actually duck his head and blush.

This is going to be a _long_ year.

\--

Isaac is actually stupid enough to make the mistake of inviting Erica to Scott’s house after school. And even though Isaac insists multiple times that it’s a group thing, that Stiles and Lydia will be there (along with herself and Allison), Erica refuses to believe that this is anything less than an excuse for Scott to hang out with Isaac. Isaac can only hope that Erica doesn’t say profusely embarrassing things while there.

Erica has also taken it upon herself to invite Boyd along, too, who’s partnered with Danny, and at this rate, Isaac sincerely doubts that there’s going to be any work getting done, but it’s a better alternative than sitting in his room by himself and trying to read over the sounds of his dad yelling.

So that’s how Isaac ends up sitting on Scott’s living room couch, squished in between Erica and Danny. Boyd’s sitting on the other side of Erica, while Scott, Stiles, Allison, and Lydia are all sitting on pillows on the floor, six family-sized bags of chips placed uniformly in the middle of them all along with three two-liter bottles of soda.

It’s the first time Isaac’s ever been inside Scott’s house, and it feels very… homey. There are pictures of Scott and his mother on the tables and walls, and Isaac wonders for a brief moment why there are no pictures of his father, but he doesn’t ask. His mom’s not home right now, as Scott explains, because she’s picked up a few extra shifts at the hospital, so it’s just the eight of them by themselves.

For the first thirty minutes, it’s relatively quiet, and it seems like everyone’s actually reading. Erica moves so that her legs are draped over Isaac, her head resting in Boyd’s lap, and Danny doesn’t complain when Erica’s feet end up on his leg. On the floor, Scott and Stiles are sitting back-to-back, Allison resting her head in Scott’s lap and Lydia resting her head in Stiles’. The only noise in the room is the sound of everyone’s breathing, the crinkle of the pages whenever someone flips it, and the crunch of potato chips between teeth.

Isaac’s fifteen pages in when Erica suddenly shifts, sitting up and reaching out to grab a bottle of soda. Only when she opens it, Boyd decides that he wants to get some more chips, and when he leans down to grab a bag, he jostles Erica, who then proceeds to spill the soda all over Isaac’s shirtfront. Isaac lets out a very eloquent squawk as the cold liquid seeps through his (admittedly very thin) shirt, and he stands quickly, though this only proves to be another mistake, because he ends up bumping into Erica, who then drops the entire bottle of soda onto the floor.

“Shit!” Erica shouts, standing quickly and escaping into Scott’s kitchen to grab what Isaac hopes to be towels.

“Oh, my god,” Isaac says, dropping to his knees to pick up the spilled bottle and to move the bags of chips and other bottles of soda out of the way of the liquid that’s quickly dispersing across the carpet. “I’m so sorry,” he mutters, trying not to meet anyone else’s eyes. Allison, Lydia, Scott, and Stiles have moved out of the way, now standing so that the liquid doesn’t touch them.

“Isaac, it’s okay,” Scott tells him, but Isaac has to do _something_ to fix it. He’s debating removing his cardigan and using it to soak up the stuff, but then Erica’s returning with multiple towels and shoos Isaac out of the way. Isaac stands back as Erica tries to clean up the mess, but he doesn’t lift his head because he’s afraid that people will be sending accusatory glances his way.

“Isaac, stop standing there looking like it’s all your fault when it’s not,” Erica calls to him from the floor, glaring at him through her lashes.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Boyd asks, and Isaac looks at him in surprise at the offer. “Because your shirt’s kind of ruined now.”

Isaac glances down at his shirt to find the dark Pepsi stain there, and he’s about to take him up on that offer when Scott says, “No, that’s fine. You can borrow one of mine.”

And now Isaac whips his head to look at Scott, and he has to make a physical effort to not gape at the boy because it’s not like they know each other on a personal level or anything. Isaac wasn’t aware that their friendship is at that borrowing each other’s clothes level. “Are you sure?” he ends up stammering out.

“Yeah, of course. It’d be stupid to go all the way home and then come all the way back just to change shirts when I have some that you can borrow.”

Isaac pretends to not notice the way Erica winks at him when he nods, following Scott up the stairs and into his room. He also pretends that his heart isn’t pounding in his chest.

Scott’s room is almost exactly how Isaac imagined it to be (not that he does that a lot. Definitely not. That would be creepy), and once he’s inside, he’s struck by how very _Scott_ it all is. There are pictures of himself and Stiles, of his mom. There are lacrosse trophies and band posters taped haphazardly onto the walls. Isaac wants to tell him that he should use tacks next time because the tape will peel away the paint, but he thinks that that’d be too intrusive, so he doesn’t. There’s a small desk with a laptop on it, and there are clothes strewn all over the place.

Isaac stands in the doorway, watching as Scott heads straight for a top drawer and withdraws a plain grey shirt.

“You can try that on,” Scott says over his shoulder as he tosses the thing at Isaac, continuing to dig through the drawer. “I don’t know if it’ll fit or not. It’s kind of old, so it might be small.” Isaac nods and is about to ask if he should change in the bathroom when Scott makes a triumphant noise and slams the drawer shut. Isaac raises a questioning eyebrow at the boy, but he just shrugs and smiles. “My mom’s been looking for this for ages. I knew I had it, but I couldn’t remember where I put it.”

Isaac sees that Scott’s holding what looks like a homemade necklace, one of those things that a third grader might craft. “I made it for her for her birthday last year, but it was so bad that I took it back when she wasn’t looking. She got mad at me for taking it back and has been asking for it ever since, but I could never find it.” Scott smiles right at Isaac, bright and lopsided and _Scott_. “I guess you’re like a lucky charm, huh?”

Isaac blinks once at Scott. He doesn’t know what to say that because he’s afraid that anything that comes out will sound a lot more like a declaration of unrequited love ( _not love_ , his mind hurries to correct. He does _not_ love Scott McCall. He barely knows him) than anything else.

Luckily, though, Scott continues before giving Isaac the chance to respond. “I’m going to go put this on her pillow or something. I’ll be right back.”

Isaac nods and moves out of the way as Scott leaves the bedroom, and Isaac steps inside it a little, wondering if he should change now before Scott comes back or if he should wait and ask where the bathroom is. He decides that now is as good a time as ever, so he quickly discards of his cardigan and his now soaked-through shirt, pulling the grey shirt ( _Scott’s grey shirt_ ) over his head.

Just as he tugs the shirt all the way down, Scott reappears in the doorway, a small chuckle falling from his lips.

“Yeah, that’s way too small,” Scott observes through a smile, going back to his drawer and tugging out a different shirt. This one is a dark red Henley, and Isaac can tell that this one’s bigger than the grey one he’s wearing right now.

“Is there a bathroom I can change in?” Isaac asks, and as soon as it’s out, he can feel his face heating up because Scott just stares at him and quirks one confused eyebrow.

“No, you can change in here; it’s fine. We’ve changed in front of each other before in the locker room, you know.”

Isaac nods, but he still turns away a little when he tugs off the grey shirt. He can’t help but feel self-conscious in the same room as Scott. Because when they change in the locker rooms, there are plenty of other people in there, too, but right now, it’s just himself and Scott.

“What’s wrong with your back?”

Isaac jumps a little at the sound of Scott’s voice when he’s in his current state of undress. He frowns a little as he tugs the shirt all the way on, and this one definitely fits better, and then he turns all the way around to face Scott. “What do you mean?”

“There are bruises on your back,” Scott explains, his goofy smile gone, now replaced with a crease between his brows.

“Oh,” Isaac says smartly. “Yeah, I’m really clumsy. I probably fell down the stairs or something.” It’s a lie, and Isaac knows he isn’t a good liar, but he hopes that Scott just lets the conversation drop. Isaac has a feeling that telling Scott about his father’s violent tendencies would cause him to pull away from their possible budding friendship, and Isaac’s kind of aiming for the opposite effect. Besides, it’s none of Scott’s business. Isaac doesn’t want to drag him into his personal problems. Isaac never even wanted to tell Erica about his father, but she’s kept this secret safe. She hasn’t even told Boyd, which is a serious testament to their friendship. He’s not sure what Scott’s reaction would be to the matter, but he doesn’t want to find out.

But Scott just goes back to smiling, apparently satisfied by the explanation. “It happens to the best of us, right?”

“Right,” Isaac agrees easily. And Isaac knows that he’s staring at Scott, but Scott’s not complaining, and they’re both smiling, and Isaac really doesn’t want to be the first to break the contact. Isaac realizes suddenly how bizarre this is, standing in Scott’s room and wearing his shirt and smiling at him. Because he _had a plan_. He was going to freaking _avoid_ Scott. He knows it would be smarter to avoid him because Isaac won’t be able to hide his feelings forever, but it seems like that’s not really a possibility anymore, so he’ll try to make the best of it. He’ll settle for friends.

And then there’s an abrupt shout coming from downstairs, and Isaac can’t be sure, but he thinks it sounds like Stiles. Scott tears his gaze away from Isaac and leaves the room, Isaac following close behind, and when they get to the bottom of the stairs, they see Stiles clutching his right hand, a pained expression on his face.

“What the hell happened?” Scott asks, but everyone else seems to be smiling, so Isaac assumes that nothing too drastic has taken place.

“Stiles wanted to arm wrestle Boyd, even though we all kept telling him that he would lose,” Lydia answers with a roll of her eyes. Isaac stifles a chuckle at the prospect of Stiles and Boyd arm wrestling, of all things. As far as he knows, Stiles doesn’t even really talk to Boyd. Or if he does, Boyd’s never brought it up to Isaac and Erica, so why Stiles chose this day to challenge someone who he’s not even close to and who has muscles that are easily bigger than his own is lost on Isaac.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Scott says in exasperation, and he almost sounds like a parent whose child just got into mild trouble at school. But Isaac notices the affectionate way Scott looks at Stiles, and Stiles just shrugs and smiles a little in return.

“Are we still studying?” Danny asks from his place on the couch. Isaac can distantly hear Scott answering him, but then he notices the time on the clock hanging on the wall and everything kind of turns into background noise.

“Shit,” Isaac mutters, hurrying to grab his backpack off the couch. “I’ve got to go.”

Isaac can feel the stares of the others burning into his back, but he just rushes to shove his copy of the book into his backpack before heading for the door. He’s already outside when he realizes that Boyd was his ride here, and he has no way to get back home without him (unless he wants to walk, that is). But there is _no way_ he’s walking back into that house after bolting like that, so instead he pulls out his cell phone and wonders if he has enough money in his backpack for a cab.

“What the hell, Isaac?”

Isaac sighs as Erica steps in front of him, hands on her hands and looking at him expectantly. “I have to go home,” is all he says.

“Is this about your dad?”

Isaac looks at her in shock because today, apparently, is a day full of surprises, especially from Erica. Because not only did she give him that whole speech earlier, but now she’s actually talking about his dad out loud, which is something she’s never done before, and Isaac has to glance behind himself at Scott’s house to make sure no one’s close enough to hear them.

“It _is_ , isn’t it?” she accuses, grabbing Isaac firmly by the arm. “Isaac Lahey, if you really think I’m going to let you leave this house–”

“Erica, it’s fine, okay? I’m just… I’m supposed to get home at seven, and it’s seven thirty. He won’t even be mad. He probably won’t even notice. I just want to be safe, okay?”

Erica’s grip tightens on his arm before she lets go of him entirely. She takes a step away from him, and then she’s looking right into his eyes, a worried little crease in between her brows. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore, Isaac.”

Isaac sighs again, staring at the ground instead of looking at her concerned gaze. “It’s only for another year. Then I’m going to college, right? And you and I, we’re going to move into an apartment together and get a cat, and the rest will be history, just like we always say we will. So stop worrying so much. Another year won’t kill me.”

Erica’s silent for a second. Then she says, “What if it does?”

He frowns at her. “Erica, my dad won’t _kill_ me. Figuratively, maybe. Literally? No.”

“I don’t mean your dad,” she replies, and her voice is so quiet that Isaac almost can’t hear it over the cars passing by Scott’s house on the road. “I mean you. You’re not exactly taking the best care of yourself, you know.”

“I’m not going to kill myself, though. I’m not suicidal or anything.”

“You don’t have to be suicidal to kill yourself.”

And Erica looks genuinely scared for him, and that scares Isaac a lot. So he doesn’t say anything; he just moves forward and pulls her into a hug. He kisses the top of her head and just holds her there for as long as it takes to reassure her. He wants her to believe that he’s okay with just the press of his body against hers, with his arms entwining around her waist and holding her against his chest, with a soothing hand rubbing up and down her spine.

And when he feels her begin to cry, he doesn’t call her out on it.

\--

Boyd drives him home twenty minutes later. Scott comes back out to say goodbye to Isaac and that he’ll see him tomorrow in school. Isaac thinks for a moment that Scott’s going to hug him or something, but he doesn’t.

When Isaac gets home, his dad is already sleeping on the couch in the living room, some kind of sports game playing loudly on the TV. Isaac shuts the thing off before making his way upstairs and lying in bed without undressing at all because as soon as his head hits his pillow, he realizes just how tired he really is.

Today was a weird day, and if every day this year is going to be like this, Isaac has no clue what he’s going to do.

And it’s not until right before he falls asleep that he realizes that he’s still wearing Scott’s shirt, and his Pepsi-stained one is still somewhere in the other boy’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote “in which Big Brother is even more sinister than the TV series inspired by it” is not my original quote. I don't remember where I found it, but I liked it a lot when I did, and I want to make it clear that it's not mine!
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to the wonderful [Rae](http://www.scisaaclaheys.tumblr.com) for reading it and making sure it didn't suck ass before I uploaded it.


	2. Chapter Two

“So when are you going to ask him out?”

Isaac rolls his eyes affectionately (and tinged with only a _little_ bit of annoyance, which is really quite a testament to his patience) at Erica. It’s been two weeks since the first meeting at Scott’s house, and the group has established a kind of study system. They all head over to Scott’s house every Tuesday and Thursday to read. They read for about an hour, then they take a break and watch something or TV or just talk about whatever for about thirty minutes before they continue to read until they have to leave. On the days that his mom is home, she’ll cook them something to eat (usually pizza bagels or French fries or something equally as unhealthy) as an alternative to their usual potato chips.

It works, for the most part. There are always those days that someone or another goofs off during the reading time – usually, it’s Scott and Stiles or Allison and Lydia – but, aside from that, it’s gone pretty well. There have been no more incidents to contest what Isaac now refers to as “The Pepsi-Spilling Catastrophe,” which is always a plus.

In fact, Isaac only has about twenty pages left in the book. He would’ve been able to finish it at their usual study session, but Scott didn’t show up to school. When he asked Stiles where he was, he told Isaac that Scott wasn’t feeling well. So instead of following their normal Thursday routine of going to Scott’s house, Boyd drove Erica and Isaac to Erica’s house, and now they’re all lounging in her room, the warm sun spilling in through her curtains and warming the atmosphere. Boyd has taken over the loveseat in the corner of the room while Erica and Isaac are lying on her bed, Isaac’s head in her lap as she plays with his hair, one of the many habits of hers that Isaac actually prefers.

“I’m not going to ask him out,” Isaac replies tiredly, to which Erica counters with a sharp tug of his hair. “Ouch! Erica, what is wrong with you?”

“I am so tired of you pining after Scott, Isaac. All you do is complain about how he’ll never go out with you, but how could you even know that if you never ask?”

“Because I’m not as optimistic about my love life as you are,” Isaac explains, sitting up a little. “You’re assuming that he’s going to say yes. I’m assuming that he’s going to say no. I’m playing it safe. And, by the way, the only reason I ever complain about Scott is because you hardly ever let me talk about anything else.”

“Until you ask him out, I _won’t_ let you talk about anything else. Why do you have to be such a pessimist?”

“I’m not a pessimist; I’m a realist,” Isaac groans, looking over at Boyd, a pleading expression in his eyes. “Boyd, help me out here.”

Boyd shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “I think Erica’s right.”

“Ha!” Erica shouts in triumph, throwing a fist in the air. Isaac takes this opportunity to twist out of her grip, rolling so that he’s sitting next to her instead of lying on top of her. She begins to protest this, but Isaac swiftly cuts her off.

“You don’t get to play with my hair when you annoy me,” he tells her. He then directs his next words at Boyd. “I thought you were on my side!”

Boyd shrugs like he’s trying to be apologetic, but he doesn’t look apologetic at all. “What can I say? I just think you should ask him. The worst he can do is say no.”

“That is _so_ not the worst he can do,” Isaac disagrees, only a little bit indignantly. “He could laugh in my face. He could turn the whole thing into a joke. He could tell the whole school–”

“But he won’t,” Boyd interjects. “You know that Scott isn’t a mean person. I doubt he’d be able to say no even if he wanted to.”

“Oh, great. So he’ll say yes by default because he’s too nice to say no. He’ll date me out of sympathy.”

“No, he’ll say yes because he likes you,” Erica tells him with exasperation coloring her voice. “Why do you have to be so down on yourself? Have some confidence, Isaac. You could use some positivity.”

“It’s just not going to happen,” he tells her as he pats his lap, communicating to the girl that it’s his turn to play with her hair. She rests her head on his lap obediently, and he begins to twist her long blonde hair in between his fingers.

“I’m going to give you a list why it _should_ happen,” Erica says, determination clear in her tone. “He let you borrow his shirt – a shirt that you still have, by the way. He still hasn’t given you back your shirt, despite the countless opportunities he’s had to do so. Last week, he asked you for your help to bring out food, which was totally an excuse for him to sit next to you when we watched _Catfish_. Just on Tuesday, he kept flirting with you. It was actually disgusting.” She punctuates the end of each sentence by holding up a perfectly manicured finger, as if ticking off all the reasons he should ask Scott out.

“He was not _flirting_ with me,” Isaac objects as he begins to braid her hair neatly. “He was just being friendly. And even if he was flirting with me, that doesn’t mean he likes me enough to go out with me. I mean, you flirt with _me_ all the time, but that doesn’t mean you want to go out with me.”

“Isaac, please just ask him out.”

“ _No_ , Erica. I’m not his type. Plus, he’s my English partner. If I ask him out and he says no, it’ll be awkward for the rest of the school year. I get the impression that Mr. Christianson won’t be so keen on changing partners.”

“It’s a good thing he won’t say no, then. Plus, Scott doesn’t have a _type_. Scott likes everyone!”

“I’m _not_ going to ask him out,” Isaac says one last time, trying to concentrate a sense of finality into his voice, but it apparently doesn’t work because Erica and Boyd just continue to talk about Scott and Isaac and the lack of romance between the two.

\--

Scott doesn’t show up the next day, either. Isaac thinks that there must be some kind of flu going around, and Scott was one of the unlucky ones to catch it first. So when Isaac takes his usual seat on the bleachers during his free period and pulls a cigarette out of his backpack, he’s more than surprised when none other than Scott McCall takes a seat next to him, a bright smile lighting up his entire face (and if Isaac smiles just at the sight of the other boy, then it’s only because he’s glad he’s not actually sick, okay).

“Hey,” Scott says as way of greeting.

“Hi,” Isaac replies, voice a little shaky because he’s really not used to being in situations where it’s only himself and Scott. There are usually other people around when they talk to each other, and Isaac has this impending sense of anxiousness whenever Scott’s in the same general area as him let alone being actually _alone_ with him. “Why are you here?” is what he ends up blurting out, and then he can feel his face heating up because, okay, that sounded a lot ruder than he intended. “I didn’t mean – I meant, I thought you were sick. Stiles said you were sick yesterday, and you weren’t in English class today, so I just assumed – I mean, not that I _hoped_ you were sick. I was just–”

Scott laughs a little bit, the only thing to stop Isaac from babbling on any longer. He promptly shuts his mouth and fights the urge to lift the cigarette to his lips just from that unbelievably embarrassing monologue. “I’m not sick. I just wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so I stayed home. And I had a doctor’s appointment this morning; that’s why I’m coming in late.”

“Oh,” Isaac says, and he doesn’t let himself say anything else because who knows what kind of gibberish will end up spewing from his mouth? He averts his gaze from Scott, staring instead at his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with the cigarette now, so he opens the pocket of his backpack and just shoves it back in, crossing his fingers and hoping that Scott doesn’t notice.

Obviously, Isaac can never get that lucky.

“You smoke?” Scott inquires, his voice a lot less cheerful and a lot more perturbed.

Isaac clears his throat a little bit and chances a glance at Scott to see a small crease appear in between his brows, as if he’s genuinely concerned about it. Isaac feels his heart speed up because this is definitely it. This is the moment that Scott tells Isaac that he doesn’t want to associate himself with such negative influences and promptly requests a partner change in English class. Or a class change. Maybe a full schedule change to switch out of the other classes he shares with Isaac as well.

“Uh, yeah,” Isaac finds himself mumbling, tearing his gaze away from Scott again. “I mean, not a lot. I actually hardly ever do. It just – you know, it’s a habit. Not that I’m addicted!” he hurries to correct because he refuses to let anyone think of him as an addict. “I’m not. I’m really not. It’s just, um… it’s a comfort to have, you know? Just to have the option to relieve stress at any time that you want. It’s not like I’m proud of it or anything. I don’t, like, brag or try to get other people to do it. And I don’t do it around people most of the time because I know it’s frowned upon, and – oh, god, I’m rambling, aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

Isaac absolutely refuses to look at Scott now. These are exactly the kinds of conversations Isaac wanted to avoid.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Scott says, his voice back to normal. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t judge. It’s just kind of unhealthy. You’ll die sooner than the average American male, you know.”

Isaac looks up at Scott in surprise at that statement, but at the amused look on Scott’s face, Isaac allows a chuckle to fall from his lips. Coming from someone else, it might’ve sounded offensive, but coming from Scott… it just sounded more like a joke. Like he was teasing him about his favorite food rather than telling him about his forthcoming death.

“I know,” Isaac replies, letting himself smile. “Not too much sooner, though. Like I said, I don’t do it a lot. I’ll only be gone a few years before you.”

Isaac’s teasing, but for some reason, Scott’s smile slips a little, only for the briefest second that if Isaac wasn’t paying attention, he wouldn’t have noticed. But it comes back just as fast as it disappeared, and Isaac wonders if maybe death is a strong subject for Scott. Maybe someone in his life has passed away recently, and it’s not something he should be joking about with the other boy. But then, Scott was the one who started it.

“You should try those electronic cigarettes. I hear they’re pretty good to help someone quit,” Scott suggests, the kidding back in his tone.

“I told you I’m not addicted,” Isaac replies. “I can quit anytime I like without trouble. It’s just a thing.”

Scott looks like he’s about to say something else, but then they hear Stiles’ voice shouting out for Scott, and Scott turns to see his friend standing down the field. Scott waves and stands up, looking at Isaac before he leaves.

“Hey, um... So I actually finished the book this morning while I was waiting at the hospital, so I was wondering if you were okay to come to my place after school to start the actual project?”

Isaac blinks once at Scott. “Just me?”

“Yeah. We are partners, you know,” he remarks, smiling his crooked smile at Isaac. And Isaac wants to say no because he cannot spend any more time alone with Scott McCall, but that’d be weird, since they _do_ have to do their project at some point. Saying no would just be delaying the inevitable.

So Isaac just nods and watches as Scott’s smile becomes impossibly brighter before he walks off the bleachers, away from Isaac, and towards Stiles.

And no matter how hard he tries, for the rest of the day, he can’t get his traitorous mind to stop referring to this as a date.

\--

Isaac is standing in the school parking lot, leaning against Boyd’s car and waiting for him and Erica to exit the school. The rest of the cars in the parking lot are slowly dwindling, and it’s weird because Boyd and Erica are usually the ones waiting for him. He sends a few texts to both of them, and he finally gets a reply after about ten minutes of waiting.

**_From: Erica (2:44):_ ** _Boyd and I got detention. Swing by Mr. Harris’s room, and we’ll give you Boyd’s car keys (as long as you promise to pick us up after detention!!)_

Isaac lets out an exasperated sigh and quickly replies to her (he may or may not have extensively threatened her life for getting detention – her mom is going to _kill_ her) before pocketing the phone and making his way back to the school. He waits impatiently for a few more cars to leave the parking lot before he pushes the doors open at the same time that Scott and Stiles exit, and even though Isaac’s pretty sure he didn’t run into Scott, Scott still falls forward, just missing Isaac’s body and face planting the cement. Isaac makes a _very_ dignified squawk as he tries to catch Scott before he hits the ground, but it doesn’t work, and Scott falls down, anyway.

“Oh, my god,” Isaac says, kneeling down immediately, hands hovering uncertainly over Scott’s back. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do because he doesn’t know how to help, but he _wants_ to help. “Scott, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Scott doesn’t say anything, but he releases a grunt of pain that communicates to Isaac very clearly that he is _not_ okay. Stiles kneels next to Scott as well, resting one hand on his back and one on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, and Scott coughs a little before sitting up, a pained look on his face and blood coming out of his nose in a steady stream. He groans before raising a hand to his nose, and he doesn’t look at all surprised when he pulls it away to find his fingers stained with red.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he puts a heavy hand on Isaac’s shoulder to propel himself into a standing position, Stiles helping him up. Once Isaac’s sure that he’s okay and isn’t going to collapse again, he gets off the ground, standing and watching as Stiles throws one of Scott’s arms around his shoulders. Isaac notices now that not only is Scott’s nose bleeding, but his lip looks busted, too.

“Are you going to help?” Stiles asks Isaac, and Isaac doesn’t say anything, only moves to the other side of Scott, putting Scott’s other arm around his shoulders.

“I’m okay. I can walk,” Scott tells Stiles and Isaac, but Stiles doesn’t let go of Scott, so Isaac doesn’t, either. Isaac thinks that Scott probably _can_ walk (after all, all those beatings on the lacrosse field have probably made Scott practically immune to stuff like this), but he doesn’t want to make Stiles angry by letting go of him. He follows Stiles’ lead, walking in tandem until Stiles gets to his Jeep, opening the back seat and waiting for Scott to climb in. After he does, he shuts the door and gestures for Isaac to get into the passenger seat.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m getting a ride from Boyd,” he tries to explain, but Stiles quickly cuts him off.

“Dude, weren’t you going to his house, anyway? I’ll drive you,” he says before getting into the driver’s side. Isaac considers it for a moment before deciding that it’d be better than having to drive all the way back to pick up Erica and Boyd in a few hours, so he gets into the passenger side and texts Erica that he won’t be needing Boyd’s car keys after all.

\--

Scott’s mom (who Isaac’s convinced is actually a saint) helps to patch Scott up, cleaning off his face and bandaging him appropriately. Isaac doesn’t know a whole lot about proper medical treatment, and it’s fascinating to watch Mrs. McCall – _Melissa_ , she keeps insisting – at work, her hands moving surly and steadily. She explains to Isaac the whole time what she’s doing, as if she could tell he was curious, and Isaac listens to every word she says, sneaking glances at Scott every once and a while, mostly to find that Scott’s already looking at him, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips.

Nothing’s broken, for which Isaac is grateful because no matter how much both Scott and his mom both insist otherwise, Isaac’s convinced that it’s somehow his fault. Scott keeps telling him that it was his own clumsiness that got him to this point, that Isaac didn’t run into him, but Isaac can’t help but feel to blame.

Isaac notices how Melissa stares at her son with large, concerned eyes every now and again, and it makes Isaac’s heart ache for that kind of affection. He also notices how certain her movements are around her own son, how cautious and sure, as if she’s done this thousands of times before (and, knowing Scott, she probably has).

Shortly after, Stiles leaves, mumbling something about how he has to help his dad out with something or another. Melissa makes them macaroni and cheese and hotdogs before leaving, kissing Scott on the forehead before leaving for the hospital, and then Scott and Isaac are just as alone together as they were earlier on the bleachers. Isaac knows immediately that this was a bad idea.

“So the project,” Scott says, clapping his hands together once and picking up his backpack from where he dropped it on the couch. Isaac stands in the middle of the room awkwardly as Scott digs through his backpack, apparently searching for the paper that outlines their assignment.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac blurts out, to which Scott glances up at him in surprise, eyebrows raising. “About your lip. And your nose. I’m really sorry.”

“Dude, stop apologizing for that,” Scott tells him as he pulls out the paper, exuding a little noise of triumph. “Seriously, it’s not your fault. I’m the one who fell. It’s not like you pushed me or anything.” Then Scott scrunches up his face in a way that Isaac probably thinks looks a little cuter than it should before asking, “You didn’t push me, right?”

Isaac blinks at Scott in surprise. “Uh… no,” Isaac answers. “You were walking out of the school, and I was walking in it. I would’ve had to be behind you to push you.”

Scott looks like he’s thinking about this for a second before breaking out in a grin. “Right,” he says, sitting on the couch. “Hey, can you grab my laptop from upstairs? It’s on my desk.”

“Yeah,” Isaac says, turning immediately and heading up the stairs because he remembers where Scott’s room is ( _of course_ he remembers where Scott’s room is). Isaac doesn’t know what it is about Scott, why he gets Isaac so flustered so easily, but he knows that he probably needs a second to collect himself before he spends hours alone with the boy.

Once inside the room, he notices that it’s messier than it was the last time he was in here. Some of the things that were lying atop desks or drawers are now strewn across the floor in a haphazard manner, no order to the mess at all. Aside from that, it’s pretty much the same as Isaac remembers it to be, and for some reason, the sight of it makes a smile form on his lips.

He makes his way over to Scott’s desk to grab the aforementioned laptop, unplugging it from its charger and tucking it underneath his arm. He takes a deep calming breath and is about to turn to go back downstairs, back to Scott, when he notices the neatly folded grey shirt lying next to where the computer was. Upon further inspection, he realizes that it’s _his_ shirt, the one he left here two weeks ago, and there’s a bright pink sticky note on it that says “Give back to Isaac!” in Scott’s messy scrawl. Isaac’s smile gets impossibly larger as he picks up the shirt, peeling the sticky note off of it and pressing it back onto Scott’s desk. He tucks the shirt under his arm, next to the laptop, and walks back downstairs.

“We have to write a five page essay,” Scott groans as soon as Isaac steps off the stairs, shoving a forkful of macaroni into his mouth as he says it. “Dude, I suck at writing.”

“So do I,” Isaac admits, setting the laptop on the coffee table in front of Scott. “I, uh, I grabbed my shirt while I was up there. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, totally! I meant to give it back to you, like, weeks ago, but I kept forgetting. Allison always tells me I have early onset Alzheimer’s because I forget things so easily.” Scott flashes a smile at Isaac, scooting over on the couch a little and powering his laptop on. “Come on, sit. If you make me do this whole thing by myself, then we’re both screwed.”

Isaac nods and sits in the space next to Scott, careful not to get too close, but then Scott hands Isaac a hotdog and scoots closer to him so that he can set the laptop in between the two, passing it back and forth whenever one of them is done with writing. They goof off a bit too much, and Isaac finds it surprising, actually, to realize how easy it is to just talk and hang out with Scott. He’s had a crush on the boy for two freaking years, and he’s finally hanging out with him by himself, and it just comes so… effortlessly.

There are a few moments where Isaac probably says something that sounds a bit too much like flirting, but Scott just takes it in stride, laughing and teasing (and possibly flirting) right back, a smile on his face nearly the whole time. They end up sitting knee-to-knee, sharing food and arguing over whose turn it is to write.

And, at the end of the day, they’ve written their five pages and have edited it extensively.

When it’s time for Isaac to leave, he stands awkwardly in the doorway, not really entirely sure what to say now. Because they’ve finished their projects weeks early, and now Isaac has no excuse to hang out with Scott outside of school, which is a huge negative that he didn’t really think of until after the project was already finished. So he stands facing Scott, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and trying to think of a way to suggest that should definitely hang out again.

And he’s pretty sure Scott’s talking, but Isaac’s not listening to any of it, his mind working too busily for him to really hear the words. And then he blurts out, presumably interrupting Scott in the middle of his sentence, “Your shirt.”

Scott’s brows furrow in confusion, and he looks down at the shirt he’s wearing before directing his gaze back at Isaac. “What about my shirt?”

Scott sounds almost offended, and Isaac can feel his face heating up, and he thinks it’s not fair how someone can look so cute when they’re so flustered.

“The one you let me borrow. I still have it. When do you want it back?”

“Oh,” Scott says, nodding. “You can just bring it to school on Monday.”

Isaac tries hard not to let his face fall, he really does, but he’s just _really_ hoping that this isn’t the end of their friendship until they get assigned their next project. He really doesn’t want this to just be temporary thing.

“Or,” Scott continues, and Isaac looks back at his face to see him smiling widely, a glint in his eyes that makes Isaac’s stomach flop. “You could always come by tomorrow. We could hang out or something.”

Isaac can physically feel his whole face light up at the idea and at the fact that Scott actually _wants_ to hang out with Isaac again. Isaac can feel himself nodding (a little too enthusiastically, but Scott doesn’t call him out on it) before he leaves the house and waits for Boyd to pick him up, and when Erica teases him the whole way home, Isaac doesn’t mind it one bit.

\--

“What happened to your eye?”

Isaac looks at Scott in mild surprise, raising one hand to touch the bruise around his eye. “Oh, nothing,” he answers immediately, a reflex. “I just… I fell.” As soon as it’s out, Isaac cringes because what kind of person falls _on their eye_?

“On your eye?” Scott inquires skeptically, as if he could hear Isaac’s thoughts.

“Well, I didn’t really _fall_ ,” Isaac tries to explain, directing his attention back to the television and the controller in his hands in favor of killing virtual zombies rather than looking at Scott. He can’t lie to Scott’s face, he just can’t. “I ran into a door at school. I wasn’t paying attention, and Boyd opened a door, and I just walked right into it. I really need to pay more attention to my surroundings, huh?”

Isaac watches as Scott’s character gets eaten by the zombies attacking them on screen, but Isaac doesn’t let that deter him. He’s too scared that if he looks at Scott, he’ll see pity or something like it. Scott will figure it all out, and then Isaac will become a charity case. But Isaac doesn’t want Scott’s help, and he doesn’t want his pity. He just wants a normal friendship with this boy that he’s had a crush on since sophomore year.

“At school?” Scott asks, a fair amount of concern concentrated into his voice.

“Yeah.”

“But today’s Saturday. And you didn’t have that bruise yesterday.”

 _Shit_. Isaac doesn’t respond, barely breathes, just continues to furiously press the buttons on the game controller. He hopes fervently that Scott lets the topic drop.

But then the TV shuts off, and Isaac looks over at Scott to see that he’s holding the TV remote in his hands, a crease of concern between his brows. Isaac’s went two weeks without having any kind of slipup around Scott, and now it’s all crashing down, and Isaac knew that this confrontation was inevitable, but he was hoping it could wait a little longer.

“Isaac, is someone doing that to you?”

“No,” Isaac answers quickly, gluing his eyes firmly to the hands that he’s twisting nervously in his lap.

“I don’t believe you,” Scott says, an edge of determination in his tone that Isaac’s never heard before. “First the bruises on your back and now the black eye that you can’t explain away? Someone’s doing this to you, Isaac.”

“No one’s doing anything to me,” Isaac insists.

“Isaac–”

“I’m fine, Scott.” Isaac maybe says it a bit too forcefully, but Scott doesn’t respond, so Isaac counts it as a victory (albeit bittersweet) in his head. The silence blankets the two of them, the tension so thick in the air that Isaac can almost make it out to be a physical manifestation, and Isaac thinks that he’s screwed everything up, but then Scott is suddenly abandoning his seat on the couch in favor of sitting next to Isaac on the floor, and the abrupt intimacy causes Isaac’s heart to quicken.

“One time in third grade, this kid was bullying Stiles really bad,” Scott says, voice almost like a whisper, but it’s so close to Isaac’s ear that he hears every single word clearly in the otherwise quiet of the room. “It started innocently enough. You know, light teasing on both their parts. But the kid who was bullying him just got meaner and meaner, and Stiles… well, Stiles isn’t a mean person. So the kid who was bullying him, he thought it was funny to shove around the nice guy, the guy who wouldn’t fight back. And Stiles started getting black eyes and bruises, and it only kept getting worse. It was really bad.”

Scott stops talking now, as if waiting for Isaac to ask, and Isaac doesn’t want to, but he knows that they’ll both just sit in silence until he does, so he tentatively asks, “What happened?” He turns his head to see Scott already looking at him, and their eyes meet, just for a fraction of a second, before Isaac looks away. Scott’s eyes are full of sincerity and sadness and everything that Isaac doesn’t want to see on Scott.

This wasn’t how his Saturday was supposed to go.

“He asked for help,” Scott replies slowly, carefully. “Once he realized that getting beat up wasn’t something he had to keep secret, that it didn’t make him weak or whatever it was that kept him from telling for so long, he asked for help.”

“I don’t need help,” Isaac tells him, though there’s not as much certainty behind the words as he’d intended.

“But you have a bully, don’t you?”

Isaac stares at his hands once more, and he considers texting Boyd, asking to pick him up, but he _doesn’t_ want to leave. He wants to stay here with Scott forever. He wants to talk to him and play video games with him and eat grossly unhealthy foods. He wants to watch movies, all kinds of movies – horror movies and comedies and romances and dramas and tear-jerkers, even documentaries – with him. He just wants to _be_ with Scott without having to talk about his dad and bullies and bruises and bad memories. Scott’s supposed to be a source of good things, the human representation of sunshine and hot chocolate on a winter’s day and newborn puppies. Scott’s supposed to help him forget about his dad, not the other way around.

And Isaac knows this is an unrealistic expectation because if they _are_ actually friends, then he’s supposed to tell Scott these kinds of things. And he will, eventually. He’s just not ready to let someone else carry that burden yet.

“What happened to your dad?” Isaac inquires after the silence has dragged on for too long, and maybe the question is too personal, but he had to say _something_.

Scott doesn’t seem to mind, though, because when Isaac turns to Scott, an apology already on his lips, Scott’s smiling softly, almost like he was expecting the question.

“I mean – you don’t have to answer that,” Isaac says quickly. “You totally don’t have to. I’d understand. It’s not my place. It’s just that there are no pictures of him anywhere, and you and your mom never talk about him. Like, ever. Oh, god, I’m sorry. This is inappropriate, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s okay,” Scott interrupts, and now he’s smiling at Isaac like his babbling is amusing. Isaac snaps his mouth shut and makes a conscious effort to pretend like they’re glued together. “He left a while ago.”

“So he’s not…?”

“Dead? No. Or, I don’t know. He could be. I haven’t heard from him since he left. I’m pretty sure someone would’ve told us if he died, though, so I just assume he’s out there somewhere.”

Isaac’s quiet after the admission, and he thinks about letting the subject go, but he’s curious, and he hasn’t been this curious about someone in a long time. And if Scott doesn’t want to answer his questions, it’s not like Isaac’s going to hold it against him, so he decides to give it a shot, anyway. “Why’d he leave?”

He can feel Scott shrug next to him, a small movement. “I guess it just wasn’t working out. He and my mom kind of started drifting apart, but they tried to make it work. I think they mostly did it for my sake. You know, stay together for the kid. But then they started to fight almost every day. It started with small arguments over stupid things, but then it got to yelling and screaming and ‘I hate you.’ And one day, they decided that staying together wasn’t benefiting me at all because they were so invested in yelling at each other that they didn’t notice anything I was doing. Like when I got my first A on an English essay or when I spent all day cleaning the house just so that maybe they wouldn’t argue today. So he just… left.”

Isaac stares at Scott with sadness in his eyes. Because Isaac knows what it feels like to lose a parent, but he doesn’t know what it would feel like if one of them willingly walked out on him. And he doesn’t understand how someone could ever walk out on _Scott_ , of all people.

“Do you ever visit him?” Isaac asks softly. Scott looks at Isaac, and he can see the sadness there, mirroring his own. And they stare at each other, and this time, Isaac doesn’t look away.

“No,” Scott says. “No, I don’t even know where he is.”

“Do you miss him?”

Scott frowns a little bit, only for a second, and he looks like he’s thinking about this one, like he doesn’t know the answer right away. “I think I miss the idea of him. Or maybe I just miss the good memories.”

Isaac nods because he understands what Scott’s saying. He misses his mom, and he misses his brother, but he thinks he misses his own dad the way that Scott does. He misses the idea of having a father figure, of having someone to play ball with and someone to teach him how to fix cars. He also misses all the times when his dad was still a normal dad, back when his mom and brother were still alive. The good memories, as Scott had said.

“What about you?”

Scott’s voice pulls Isaac out of his reverie, and he blinks at Scott a little bit before asking, “What about me?”

Scott smiles at Isaac, a large grin that makes Isaac’s heart skip a beat. “I’m over here talking about my entire family history. What about your family?”

“Oh,” Isaac says eloquently. “Oh, there’s not really much to tell. It’s just me and my dad.”

“Your parents are divorced, too?”

Isaac clears his throat a little bit, rubbing a nervous hand on the back of his neck. “Uh, no.”

A beat passes where neither of them say anything, and then Scott says, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Isaac, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No, it’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

Scott nods once, and now he’s the one who looks away first. “How did it happen?”

“It was, um…” Isaac has to clear his throat again to speak past the lump that has formed there, like it always does whenever he talks about his mom. “It was cancer. Leukemia.”

Scott whips his head back to look at Isaac, something akin to shock on his features. “She had cancer?”

Isaac nods once, fighting back the telltale tears that tickle the backs of his eyes. “Yeah. Um… I mean, I was younger, and I didn’t really know what was going on. My brother and my dad never told me what was going on because I was so young, but they would take me to the hospital to visit her every day. And then one day, we just stopped visiting.”

The confession is met with silence, and Isaac doesn’t want to see the pity in Scott’s eyes, the same sadness that Erica and Boyd both showed when he told them about his mother. He doesn’t want that, not from Scott.

“You said it was just you and your dad. What happened to your brother?”

Isaac trains his eyes on the blank television in front of him. He feels bad that he’s piling his whole tragic life story on Scott. He didn’t want to do this, he really didn’t. He wishes he could lie, just tell Scott that he moved out, that he’s living in Russia or some other foreign country, studying art like Camden always wanted. “A free spirit,” he called himself.

“He’s dead, too,” he ends up admitting. “He died in combat a few years ago.”

He’s met with quietness again, and it makes Isaac extremely uneasy. He chances a glance at Scott to see him frowning, various different emotions flitting across his face.

“Damn,” Scott finally settles on saying, and Isaac thinks there’s a hint of what sounds like guilt in his voice, which is just ridiculous because it’s not like any of this is Scott’s fault. “It seems like everyone you know dies.” And then, a second later, “That was rude, I’m sorry. I have this tendency of saying the wrong things. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I really am sorry about that, Isaac.”

“No, it’s okay,” Isaac tells him, shaking his head a bit. “I’m used to it. It’s just a dull ache now, you know? I didn’t mean to turn this into an emotional trip or whatever.”

Scott laughs at that, a soft sound, so Isaac allows himself to smile, turning to look at Scott again. “I wanted to know. We’re friends, right? It’s what friends are for.”

“Yeah,” Isaac says, a little breathless at the recognition of their newfound friendship. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

And they kind of just smile at each other for a few moments, but then Scott stands up, holding out his hand for Isaac to take. Isaac looks up at Scott skeptically.

“Come on,” Scott insists. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

Isaac frowns in confusion, but he takes Scott’s hand, letting go once he’s standing next to Scott. He immediately misses the feel of Scott’s fingers wrapped around his own, a warm comfort to steady him. “Where are we going?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks to the door, grabbing a pair of car keys and holding the door open for Isaac to walk through first.

“A surprise?” Isaac asks suspiciously once he’s outside and watching Scott lock the door behind him.

“Yeah. It’s something I found a while ago. You’ll love it, trust me.” Scott moves past Isaac and opens the door of the car sitting in the driveway, motioning to Isaac that he should get into the passenger seat. “Get in. I’m not going to murder you in the woods or anything.”

Isaac smiles and rolls his eyes, but he follows Scott’s lead, getting into the passenger side of the car. He’s pretty sure he grins the whole way there, but that’s okay because Scott only smiles right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [whispers] Feedback would be lovely, you little angels, you.


	3. Chapter Three

The first thing that happens when Isaac steps out of the car is that Scott walks straight to Isaac’s side, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. Isaac tries really hard not to focus too much on the feel of Scott’s hand wrapped around his own, and he wishes that he could intertwine their fingers together, hold his hand and stay that way forever. But that’s not something that one guy friend does to another, so he settles on reveling in the fact that Scott’s hand is in his own now.

“Where are we?” Isaac asks, taking in his surroundings because it almost seems like they’re… in the middle of nowhere. There are no houses anywhere (Isaac distinctly remembers the last house was about ten miles back), and they’re surrounded by huge, leafy trees and grass that’s greener than that of any grass he’s ever seen before and bright flowers that are in full bloom in the early days of autumn. Scott got here by taking a small side road a few miles back that further lead onto a dirt road (in which Isaac asked multiple times if this car was okay to be driving on a dirt road because, according to the noises of protest it was making, Isaac thought it was going to break down).

Scott holds firmly onto Isaac’s hand as he leads him through a thick patch of trees, and Isaac trips more than once (and Scott catches him every time, letting go of his hand in order to grab his shoulder or hook an arm around his back to stop him from hitting the ground before securing their hands again). Scott doesn’t stumble once, though, and Isaac thinks that’s because he’s been here so many times that he’s learned where to step and not. In fact, Scott warns him multiple times when there’s a dip in the ground or a tree root that he’s tripped over before or a rock surfacing.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you,” Scott calls back to Isaac, and Isaac can’t see his face, but he can tell by his voice that he’s grinning.

“Scott, we’re in the middle of nowhere,” Isaac says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m starting to doubt your earlier promise of not murdering me in the woods.”

Apparently, walking and talking at the same time in his current setting isn’t such a smart idea because Isaac trips again, but this time when Scott lets go of his hand, he doesn’t catch him in time, and Isaac hits the ground with a small “oof.” The soil where he falls is soft, and he didn’t land on any rocks or anything, so he’s seemingly injury-free, which is always a good thing, but that doesn’t mean that Scott isn’t going to rub it in his face.

Scott places his palms on his knees, doubling over and laughing loudly, as if this is just the funniest thing that he’s ever seen, before he reaches out a hand and helps Isaac up. “I’m pretty sure that if I wanted to murder you,” Scott says in between chuckles, “I would’ve done it by now.”

“Oh, shut up,” Isaac says, wiping at the dirt that’s now staining his shirt and pants.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” Scott tells Isaac, grabbing his hand enthusiastically and pulling him once again.

“Almost _where_?” Isaac asks in exasperation, but then they’re pushing through the last of the trees, and Scott stops and turns to smile at Isaac, a smile that Isaac wants to stare at forever, but then he realizes that the smile must be because they’re at the place that Scott wanted to take him, so Isaac forces himself to stop staring at the other boy and to look at where it is exactly that he’s standing.

They’re standing in a giant clearing, the sun shining on the bright green grass that looks somehow perfectly trimmed despite the lack of humanity around. The clearing seems to be almost a perfect circle, and the sun casts a light over the whole thing that makes it seem almost luminescent. It’s surrounded by bushes and various different flowers and tall trees, and it really is something to look at because it just overwhelms him with a sense of peace that he hasn’t felt in a really, really long time.

“How did you find this place?” Isaac ends up asking, stepping into the clearing.

Scott smiles and grabs Isaac’s hand one last time, dragging him into the middle of the clearing and tugging him down so that he’s sitting. The sun that shines here is warm, but it’s not so overbearing that Isaac feels like he’s sweating.

“I was just driving around one day, and I found this back road that I’d never been down before, so I decided to come down here and see what there was. And then I started driving down the dirt road, and I was just bored, so I decided to get out and go hiking or whatever, and then I found this place. There’s never anyone out here, and it’s really peaceful, so I come here whenever I need to think or be alone or whatever.” Scott lies down now, raising his arms so that they’re behind his head. “It’s like this secret place where the rest of the world doesn’t exist. No one else knows about it, you know. Or I’ve never told anyone about it. Except for you now.”

“Not even Stiles?” Isaac asks, following Scott’s lead and lying back on the soft grass.

“Not even Stiles,” Scott confirms.

“Then why me?”

“It just seemed like you might need a place like this,” he explains, turning so that he’s on his side, propping himself up with one elbow and looking down at Isaac. “You seemed like you might need to get away.”

Isaac swallows nervously. “But now this place isn’t your secret place anymore.”

“No,” Scott says slowly, a grin forming on his lips. “Now it’s _our_ secret place. I don’t mind sharing, as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“You have to promise,” he insists, and Isaac smiles despite the serious face that Scott’s wearing.

“I _promise_ ,” Isaac says, hoisting himself up so that he’s matching Scott’s position, and they’re grinning at each other now, and Isaac can feel his heart speeding up in his chest at the sudden proximity they’re in, but Scott isn’t making any move to put distance between them, so Isaac doesn’t, either.

“Isaac, can I tell you something?”

Isaac nods. “Of course.”

Scott’s face shifts into one of semi-seriousness, the joking edge gone. He’s staring intently at Isaac, and it makes him nervous. He shifts a little bit under the other boy’s heavy gaze. “You look really nice.”

Isaac frowns a bit in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, just in general. You look nice. You seem like someone who probably doesn’t get told that as much as you should.”

Isaac shrugs and lies back down on the grass as an excuse to not have to look Scott in the face. It’s hard enough to just be around Scott without acting like a fourteen-year-old girl when they’re doing nothing but playing video games and eating pizza, but _this_ is very different and much worse. Scott’s just showed Isaac a place that he’s kept a secret from everyone else because he wanted a place where he could get away and be alone. He trusted Isaac enough to show it to him. Isaac feels as if Scott’s opened a door, inviting Isaac into his personal life in a way that he might not be ready for just yet. Isaac isn’t sure he can handle what’s behind that door.

And being in a quiet, intimate setting really doesn’t help his attraction towards Scott at all, especially when he’s trying to hide it from Scott. So he just shrugs (maybe a little too casually) and says, “Erica tells me often enough.”

Scott chuckles before lowering himself onto his elbows, lying on his stomach and staring at Isaac. “Sometimes you need someone other than your best friend to tell you those kinds of things.”

Isaac bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning and looks at Scott, at his infectious smile and his brown eyes and the way he looks almost like a god with the way the sunshine is hitting him, casting shadows over his face that cause him to look damn near perfect. Like Hephaestus, Isaac thinks, except Scott doesn’t need saving. Scott fits Apollo’s profile more.

“Well, in that case,” he says, voice shakier than he intended it to be under Scott’s gaze, “you look really nice, too.”

And Isaac _so_ wants to just tell Scott everything in that moment. He wants to tell him just how much he likes him, how he’s been crushing on him since sophomore year. He wants to tell him how beautiful he thinks he is, and he wants to kiss him and hold him and just _be_ with him.

And in that moment, Isaac blurts out, “Scott, I like you.”

And he almost immediately slaps himself in the face because he really _did_ want to hide this from Scott. In that split second, his mind thought it was a good idea, and he didn’t really think it through before he went and put it out there. He hears Boyd’s voice in his head, telling him that Scott’s response won’t be as negative as Isaac expects it to be. He hears Erica telling him that Scott probably likes him, too, and he tries to convince himself that maybe Scott won’t push him away.

But then there’s that other part of his brain that keeps insisting that he’s just made the hugest mistake of his life, and he refuses to look at Scott. He stares up at the sky, and he feels his heart speed up, and he knows his face is heating up. But he will _not_ allow himself to look at Scott.

Scott doesn’t say anything, not at first, and Isaac’s prepared to just sit here in silence, staring stubbornly at the sky, until he says something. And then he says, “I like you, too, Isaac. Duh.”

Isaac bolts up from where he’s lying down and turns to face Scott, a look of shock on his face. He stares into the depths of Scott’s brown eyes, trying to figure out if there’s anything there that could give away if he was lying or not. But there’s nothing but sincerity.

“You do?” Isaac asks, a little breathless.

“Well, yeah,” Scott says, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re friends, aren’t we? How am I going to be your friend if I don’t like you?”

Isaac tries to determine if he’s joking or not, but once he realizes that Scott’s being serious, he feels his heart drop and his face fall. Because _of course_ Scott meant as only friends. Of _course_ he did. Why would Scott McCall like Isaac, of all people, romantically anyway?

“No, I mean…” Isaac says, fidgeting and staring at the ground now, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “I mean… Scott, I _like_ you.”

And this time, the silence that he’s met with feels a lot more uncomfortable, and Scott doesn’t say anything for a long time, so Isaac just continues staring at the ground. But then the silence drags on for way too long, so he raises his head to glance at Scott who’s not smiling anymore. He’s frowning, but he doesn’t look angry or disturbed. He mostly looks confused, as if he doesn’t know what to do with this information.

Isaac gives it another few minutes, but Scott still doesn’t say anything, so he gives in. “Scott, say something.”

Scott finally meets Isaac’s gaze, and Isaac finds what looks like guilt in the depths of them. He doesn’t know what it means, that guilt, but he doesn’t get a chance to find out, either because Scott stands abruptly, offering Isaac a hand to help him up. Isaac takes it reluctantly, and as soon as he’s standing, Scott lets go, walking back towards the patch of trees they came from. “We should leave,” he calls to Isaac over his shoulder.

Isaac follows behind Scott closely, and he feels like crying because how could he have been so _stupid_ to believe that Scott wouldn’t reject him? But he doesn’t let himself cry, not now, not in front of Scott.

He does notice that Scott walks slowly enough for Isaac to keep pace with him in the unfamiliar setting, and when Isaac stumbles, Scott’s hands are there, catching him and hovering over him, making sure he’s okay before going back to walking in front of him. The car ride is awkward and silent, and Isaac stares dejectedly out the window the whole time, clamping his teeth down on the inside of his cheeks to keep from crying. He focuses on breathing regularly, and he ignores the music that’s playing softly from the car speakers.

When Scott drops Isaac off at his house, he calls out an apology, a goodbye, and an “I’ll see you in English on Monday” before driving away from Isaac.

And as soon as he’s gone, as soon as he’s in his room by himself, he finally allows himself to break.

\--

“This better be damn good if you’re waking me up at four fifty-two in the morning. I need my sleep, Isaac, and while I love you, I will not hesitate to kill you if you just called to chat.”

Erica’s voice, no matter how bitter and angry, is a reassurance, a reminder that even if he doesn’t have Scott, he’ll always have her. There’s that saying about friendship being more important than romantic relationships, and in this moment, Isaac couldn’t agree more.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday, Erica,” he retorts, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible. “You can sleep in as late as you want.”

“What’s wrong?” Erica asks, and she sounds a lot more alert now, just the sound of his voice enough to tell her that he’s not okay. “You sound like you’ve been crying. What happened?”

Isaac sniffs once, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just need someone to talk to.”

“You don’t want to talk about it but you want to talk to someone?” Erica replies, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Yeah,” Isaac mutters. He hears noises coming from the other end of the phone, as if Erica’s getting out of bed. She then sighs loudly.

“It wasn’t… you know…?” She leaves the end of the sentence hanging in the air, making it very clear as to what she’s asking about.

“No,” Isaac says immediately. “No, it wasn’t my dad. Nothing like that.”

Erica’s silent for a moment. Then he hears another voice in the background, this one mumbling, and he recognizes it instantly.

“How come you invited Boyd over for a sleepover without me?” Isaac asks, trying to joke, to make it seem like he’s more okay than he is. He doesn’t want her to worry over him any more than necessary.

But she pretends like she doesn’t hear the question, only says, “We’re coming to pick you up, okay?”

“What? Erica, it’s five in the morning. I can’t just leave without telling my dad; he’ll be pissed.”

“Doesn’t he leave for work at five thirty? We’ll be over in thirty minutes. No arguments.”

“Erica–”

But she’s already hung up, and Isaac should know better than arguing with her, but it’s really unnecessary for her to drive over at ungodly hours in the morning. Then again, he probably also could’ve waited to call her for a few more hours. So he sighs and lies back on his bed, running a hand through his hair and counting the spots on the ceiling.

\--

“He _broke up with you_?” Erica demands angrily, her face already twisting into one of rage. “That asshole! What kind of stupid, mean, coldhearted person would _break up with you_?”

“Firstly,” Isaac tells her patiently, “he did not ‘break up’ with me. We weren’t even _dating_. Literally all I said was that it’s about Scott, and you jump to the worst possible conclusion.”

“In her defense, you woke us both up at five in the morning crying,” Boyd interjects, sitting in the chair Isaac keeps at his desk. It’s odd, he thinks, having Boyd and Erica at his house instead of one of theirs. They hardly ever come over because of his dad, and it feels strange, like something’s out of place.

“In _my_ defense,” Isaac protests, “I did not wake _you_ up. I woke Erica up, and she woke you up. And also, I was not crying. I was sniffling.”

Erica waves her hand, as if to dismiss the issue. “Details,” she says airily, scooting closer to Isaac on the bed. “Fine, so I’ll let you tell me what happened first. _Then_ I’ll call him a stupid, mean, coldhearted person. Deal?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything if you insult him,” Isaac says stubbornly, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. “That would probably only make me feel worse.”

“Ugh, fine, oh my god,” Erica groans, falling back onto the bed and running a hand through her long hair in frustration. “Fine, so I won’t say anything until after you tell us what exactly happened, and then I’ll only say moderately neutral things. _Deal_?”

“Yeah, whatever. Deal.”

The room falls quiet, and Isaac knows that Erica and Boyd are waiting for him to explain, but he can’t find the words. He doesn’t want to make it seem like Scott’s a bad person because he knows that he’s _not_. Just because Scott doesn’t want to date Isaac (and, really, who could blame him?) doesn’t make him a bad person. After a moment, though, he takes a deep breath and begins, “He took me to this place, and we were just hanging out, but he was talking, and he was saying all these things, and he just looked so good, so… I told him.” He raises his head from his knees to see Erica and Boyd staring at him, expectant looks on their faces.

When it becomes clear that this is the end of his retelling, Erica raises her eyebrows. “Seriously? That’s it? Obviously, something else happened or else you wouldn’t have been crying.”

Isaac shrugs and begins to pick at a loose string on his blanket. “Well… he doesn’t like me back.”

“He said that?” Boyd asks.

“Well, not in so many words. But he barely talked to me the whole way back, and he hasn’t tried calling or texting or anything. It’s like he has some kind of switch in his head, and as soon as I told him, I flicked the switch off. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like the beginning of a tragic rejection.”

“So what _did_ he say?” Erica inquires.

“Nothing, really. When he dropped me off, he apologized and said he’d see me at school on Monday.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he groans loudly and slumps onto the pillows behind him, covering his face with his hands. “I’m going to see him at _school_. Oh, god. It’s going to be so awkward. Do you think my dad will let me transfer?”

“You are not transferring,” Erica tells him sternly. “So what? So a boy maybe doesn’t like you the same way you like him? If you remember, Stiles didn’t like me back very much, either, but did I transfer? Hell, no. It’s just a crush, and you’ll get over it just like I did.”

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, Isaac Lahey. It’s our senior year, and if you think you’re going to graduate without Boyd and me, then you are very mistaken, my friend. You can’t get rid of us that easily.”

“It’s not you guys that I want to get rid of,” he mutters.

“Yeah, and you don’t want to get rid of Scott, either. And if you say you do, then you’re lying to yourself just as much as you are to us.”

“Plus, he never said he didn’t like you,” Boyd adds, swiveling back and forth in the computer chair.

“You were the one who got my hopes up last time, Boyd. Please don’t do that to me again.”

“I’m just saying. So he had a bad reaction. Does that mean he doesn’t like you? Not necessarily.”

“I think he made it pretty clear, actually, but thanks for the optimism. I appreciate it; I really do.”

Erica smacks the side of his head (rather hardly, actually, and Isaac yelps in pain before turning to glare at his friend, who only glares right back). “Don’t be stupid,” she tells him with an accusatory edge to her voice.

“Famous last words,” he mutters, and Erica opens her mouth as if to scold him some more, but then a loud ringing noise pierces the air, and Isaac instantly recognizes it as Erica’s ringtone. She reaches her arm out to the other side of the bed where her phone is resting, a crease forming between her brows as her eyes scan the caller ID.

“It’s Stiles,” she says, which definitely piques Isaac’s interest. He sits up straight (and he notices that Boyd does, too, apparently done with swiveling and instead staring intently at the other girl, something akin to concern in his eyes, as if he’s still worried about the possibility of Stiles breaking his friend’s heart). She clicks on the “Answer” button and puts the phone onto speaker. “Stiles?” she asks in confusion.

“Hey,” Stiles says, sounding slightly out of breath. “Is Isaac with you?”

Erica glances at Isaac for a moment before staring back down into her lap, but he can see the hurt in her eyes, what looks almost like rejection, and Isaac thinks that maybe Erica isn’t as over Stiles as she likes to say she is.

“He has his own phone, you know,” she replies.

“I don’t have his number. Isaac and I aren’t really friends.”

“And we are?” she snaps, picking at a few loose strands on Isaac’s blanket. She’s tugging so hard that Isaac’s afraid she’s going to end up ripping it, but he doesn’t say anything.

And Stiles doesn’t reply for a second, as if the question has genuinely caught him off-guard. A moment later, he says, “Look, Erica, I just need to talk to Isaac, okay?”

Erica makes a face that looks almost like a grimace before shoving the phone into Isaac’s chest, still staring down. Isaac wants to say something to her, but there’s really nothing _to_ say, not with Stiles on the phone right now, anyway, so he just takes the phone from her.

“This is Isaac,” he says into the room, holding the phone away from his mouth but close enough so that Stiles can still hear. He cringes at the way he sounded so formal saying that, but he doesn’t attempt to say anything else, mostly because Stiles is talking as soon as he stops.

“Take the phone off speaker.”

Isaac frowns and looks up to see Erica and Boyd already staring at him, Erica shaking her head back and forth.

“Um…” Isaac says. “It already is on speaker.”

And he’s really not a good liar at all, so he’s not surprised in the least when Stiles says, “You’re lying. This is important. Take the phone off speaker.”

Isaac stares a second longer at Erica and Boyd before muttering a swear and turning the phone off of speaker, holding it to his ear. “Okay, it’s off speaker now. What do you want? If we’re not friends, I mean?”

Isaac hears Stiles sigh on the other end of the phone, and he can just picture Stiles running a hand through his hair like he’s stressed or something. He sees Stiles do it during a particularly difficult test or when they’re losing at a lacrosse game. And if Stiles is so stressed out, why is he calling _Isaac_ , of all people, anyway?

“Look, Isaac, I like you. I do.” He’s quiet before he mutters, “And Scott likes you, too.”

Isaac feels his heart stop for just a brief second before it resumes as it had before. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Scott?”

“Yeah. He likes you a lot, but he’s too stubborn to tell you, and he’ll never tell you unless you make the first move, and I’m sick and tired of seeing him mope around all day.”

“I did make the first move,” Isaac tells the other boy. “I told him that I like him, and then he shut off. I don’t know about you, but to me, that doesn’t sound like he likes me.”

“Isaac, please,” Stiles groans. “Literally all day yesterday, Scott wouldn’t shut up about how he ruined your friendship and he’ll never be able to fix it and all this really stupid shit. He kept me up all night, and then he showed up at my house an hour ago. It’s _six in the_ morning. I almost cut off my ears at least four times. _Four times_ , Isaac.”

“Why doesn’t he just tell me this himself?”

“Because he’s too stupid,” Stiles mutters. “He thinks you’re too good for him or something.”

“Too good for _me_?” Isaac asks in astonishment, and he almost laughs out loud to that because he’s positive that Stiles is playing a joke on him or something.

“Seriously. Just talk to him at school tomorrow, okay?”

It takes a moment to turn over in his mind. It wouldn’t make any sense for Stiles to lie to him about any of this. Isaac knows that, just like Scott, Stiles isn’t a bad person. He doesn’t get off on other people’s pain and humiliation. So Isaac really has no reason to believe that this isn’t a legitimate request.

“Fine,” he sighs into the phone. “I’ll talk to him in English tomorrow.”

He can almost feel Stiles’ relief through the phone. “Isaac, I could kiss you,” he says before hanging up, leaving Isaac to relay the entire conversation to his two friends.

\--

The only problem is that Scott isn’t in school the next day.

Or the day after that.

Or the day after that.

So when Thursday rolls around and Scott still hasn’t shown up, Isaac confronts Stiles in English class before the bell rings. He strides straight to Stiles’ desk and drops his books on his desk (with more force than strictly necessary; he was going for one of those intimidating moves that people pull in movies, but he’s not sure how well it worked).

“So where’s Scott?” he demands. “I was supposed to talk to him on Monday, right? That’s what you said. But it’s Thursday, and I still haven’t seen him. So where is he?”

Stiles doesn’t even blink. “Didn’t I tell you? He went on vacation with his mom for her birthday. They went to the mountains.”

“No, they didn’t. Boyd has to drive past his house in the morning to get to school and in the afternoon to get to my house, and there are two cars in the driveway every afternoon, so I know that they’re both there.”

“They rented. Neither of those cars are really reliable to drive up mountains with.”

Isaac stares at the boy for a second, and he doesn’t know why, but he just _knows_ that Stiles is lying. It doesn’t add up. Surely, Scott’s best friend would have been aware beforehand that Scott wasn’t going to be in school the whole week and thus wouldn’t have told Isaac to talk to him on Monday. It doesn’t make sense, and Isaac wants to argue with him, but then the bell rings, and Mr. Christianson is telling everyone to sit down, so Isaac doesn’t really have a choice but to sit down. When the bell rings dismissing first period, Stiles is out of the room before Isaac even has all of his things stuffed into his backpack, and he doesn’t see Stiles for the rest of the day.

\--

Despite his best efforts to not be the first to call or text Scott, he sends the boy two texts and calls him once when school ends, but he doesn’t get a reply. Not right away, at least. He sits in his room and does his homework and cooks himself dinner, and he’s lying on the couch downstairs in the evening after his dad’s gone upstairs for the night when there’s a loud string of knocks coming from the door. Isaac doesn’t know what to do at first because it’s so rare that they ever get visitors. He knows there’s a rule about not opening the door if you don’t know who it is, especially since it’s getting dark outside, but when the knocking continues, he springs from the couch and goes to answer the door before it wakes his dad up and pisses him off.

The last person he expects to see standing on his doorstep at ten o’clock at night is Scott, soaking wet as if it’s been raining (even though Isaac knows for a fact that it hasn’t been).

“Scott?” Isaac asks in alarm, stepping aside and ushering the other boy into the house. In that moment, he forgets everything that’s happened in the past week, the communication blackout and what felt like a rejection and _everything_. Because once Scott is inside and in proper lighting, Isaac notices that his eyes are red and puffy, like he’s been crying, and he’s shivering slightly. “Scott, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Scott doesn’t speak at first, just stands there and stares at the growing puddle that’s forming on the hardwood floor (his dad is going to _kill_ him for that, but Isaac doesn’t try to stop it from happening). And Isaac gives him the time he needs because he suspects that maybe Scott isn’t in a really good place of mind right now, and maybe he just needs some time.

Finally, Scott raises his head to look at Isaac, looks right in his eyes, and says, “I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? What’s going on?” Isaac steps closer to Scott, and he wants to comfort him somehow, but he stops himself. The last thing he needs to do right now is make Scott uncomfortable in any way.

“I’m wet,” he says, his brow furrowing, as if he doesn’t remember this happening.

Isaac can’t help but smile fondly at Scott. “Yes, you’re wet. You also look cold. Do you want to borrow something? Clothes or a towel or something?”

Scott nods, and he doesn’t get any more specific than that, so Isaac just moves a little closer to Scott and places a hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the living room.

“Just wait down here, okay? I’ll go get something. You can change the channel or… you know, whatever.”

Scott nods again, like it’s all he can do, and Isaac wants to stay, to sit with him and make sure he’s okay because he really doesn’t seem okay right now, but he forces himself to look away from him and go upstairs. He treads lightly, careful to not wake his father up as he quietly opens his bedroom door. He flicks on the ceiling light and moves to his drawers, pulling out a couple of different shirts for Scott to choose from and a pair of old basketball shorts. He also grabs a towel from the bathroom before walking back down the stairs, and once he’s in the living room, he’s surprised to see Scott already asleep on the couch. Isaac grins as he looks at him, observing the way his mouth is open, slight snores escaping his mouth. He’s curled into a ball, probably as a way to counteract the cold, and Isaac almost doesn’t want to wake him up, but he knows that Scott needs to get out of the wet clothes, so he shakes him gently until his eyes blink open.

“Isaac?” Scott croaks, sitting up a little and rubbing at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he replies, handing Scott the pile of clothes and the towel. “I brought you, like, three shirts and a pair of shorts and a towel. There are blankets down here you can use if you’re still cold. And there’s a bathroom right down that hall that you can change in,” he explains, nodding his head towards the hall in question.

Scott frowns a bit. “Why am I here?”

“You came here,” Isaac says, blinking once in confusion. “Like, ten minutes ago. You just showed up soaking wet.”

Scott looks like he’s considering this for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I did.”

It’s quiet for a minute, and Isaac wants to know what’s happened to cause Scott to be so out of it, but he doesn’t want to ask, not really. He wants Scott to tell him because he wants to, not because he’s prompted to.

“Where’s your bathroom again?”

“Oh,” Isaac says, pointing this time to the hallway. “It’s the only door down that hallway. It’s hard to miss.”

Scott sends Isaac a thankful smile before standing and making his way to the bathroom. Isaac wonders if Scott’s had anything to eat, and even if he hasn’t, it wouldn’t hurt to make food, anyway, just so that he has that option, so Isaac stands and moves to the kitchen, grabbing a box of pasta from the cabinet before setting a pot of water to boil. He hears the door to the bathroom open, and a second later, Scott wanders into the kitchen, holding his wet clothes under his arms. The shirt that he chose is a long-sleeved blue Henley that’s a little too big on him, and Isaac notices how he balls up the ends of the sleeves into his palm. The basketball shorts fit him pretty well, though (okay, so they’re a little long – Isaac can’t help that he has long legs).

“Here,” Isaac says, taking the wet clothes out of Scott’s arms. He leaves the kitchen for a second to put the clothes into the drying machine before returning to Scott in the kitchen.

“You’re cooking?”

“Yeah, I thought you might be hungry. When was the last time you ate?”

Scott thinks about this for a second. “A few hours ago, I think. My mom made dinner.”

“Are you hungry now?”

“I’m always hungry,” Scott answers with a small smile that definitely feels more like the normal Scott, so Isaac allows himself to smile as well.

“Good. Do you want to grab some spaghetti sauce out of the cabinet for me?”

Scott nods, and they quickly fall into a pattern for the twenty minutes that it takes for the water to boil and the pasta to cook. They work quietly but not uncomfortably, and whenever Scott’s hand grazes over Isaac’s own or his arm or his shoulder, neither of them are quick to pull away.

It isn’t until they both have their own bowls of pasta and are leaning against opposite countertops that Scott speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Isaac looks at Scott in confusion. “For what?”

“For everything.” He shrugs. “I didn’t mean to be an ass or ignore you or whatever. I really like you, Isaac, and I want us to still hang out and be friends. You kind of just sprung that on me, and I panicked, and I didn’t know what to say. And then I had to stay out of school for the week, which is a long and painfully boring story, and I’ve been meaning to call you, I really have, but I didn’t know if you were mad at me or… you know. Yeah.”

Isaac only stares at the other boy and blinks slowly. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Scott. None of this is your fault.”

“It’s not your fault, either. I know you have this fault complex or whatever, but you’re not to blame.”

He nods, mostly just to appease Scott, and they lapse into silence again, the only sound in the room of the two boys eating. When they’re both done, Isaac sets his bowl in the sink and turns on the faucet, grabbing a sponge and soap and washing out the dish. He takes Scott’s bowl as well, washing it out before placing it in the dishwasher.

And then Scott says, “I just got out of the shower.”

Isaac looks at him in alarm, confusion coloring his features. “What?”

“When I got here,” he clarifies. “I’d just gotten out of the shower, and that’s why I was wet. It’s not nearly as exciting or weird as you were probably thinking.”

Isaac smiles softly at him. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Scott nods, and after a few moments of standing there in an awkward silence, they walk back into the living room where Isaac’s determined to stay with Scott until the other boy is ready to go home. He flips through the channels until Scott tells him to stop on a rerun of _Friends_ , and Isaac rolls his eyes, but he settles into the couch cushion and watches the show with Scott, smile growing every time Scott laughs at the cheesy jokes.

After two episodes, Scott shuts off the television and stands. “I should probably get going.”

“Yeah, of course,” Isaac says, standing after Scott. He walks Scott to the front door and stands there, but Scott doesn’t leave right away, just stands there and pulls at his sleeves, staring down.

“Thanks,” Scott says. “For letting me stay here for a while. And for the clothes.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Isaac tells him, waving a hand in dismissal.

Scott nods once, still staring down and not making a move to leave, before he mutters, “I wish I could… you know. I just can’t.”

Isaac furrows his brows. “Can’t what?”

“ _You know_.” Scott raises his head to look into Isaac’s eyes. “Because I like you. I just can’t… I can’t be _with_ you, you know?”

And Isaac’s surprised at how much that hurts. Because even though he knew that Scott didn’t like him like that, it’s still painful to hear him say so himself.

“No, it’s fine,” Isaac says. “You can’t help who you like, you know? I’m not going to try to force you to like me.”

Scott blinks at him, and he looks like he doesn’t really understand what Isaac’s trying to say. “Did you not here what I just said? I _do_ like you, Isaac.”

“I know. Just not the way that I like you.”

“I do, though,” Scott tells him, and now his voice is more confused than sad. “I like you a lot.”

And now Isaac feels like he should have some kind of revelation or something, but it’s just… not making any sense. Nothing’s really adding up. Because if Scott likes him the way that Isaac does, then why can’t he be with him?

“Then why…?”

“I just _can’t_ ,” Scott says almost brokenly. “There’s a lot going on right now, and I don’t want to burden you with that. That’s not fair.”

“Trust me,” Isaac says. “I can probably handle whatever it is.”

But Scott only shakes his head. And Isaac doesn’t know how it happens, doesn’t remember any details, but one moment, they’re standing opposite each other in the doorway, and then they’re kissing, and Isaac doesn’t know who kissed who or when the other started to kiss back or how they ended up wrapped up in each other, anyway, but all Isaac can focus on is the feel of Scott’s mouth on his, and it’s definitely not how he pictured their first kiss to be. It’s not soft or gentle or anything like he thought Scott would kiss, but Scott’s clinging to him almost desperately, and it’s messy and sloppy and not at all romantic, but it’s perfect to Isaac.

And they’ve changed positions now, Isaac leaning against the door and Scott pressing against him, a hand on Isaac’s hip and another on the back of his neck, and then Isaac hears a thump from upstairs, and the two boys jump apart instantly, looking at each other with wide eyes before listening to hear the steady _thump, thump, thump_ of footsteps on the floor above them.

“Go,” Isaac whispers, opening the door and shoving Scott through it.

“What–”

“Just _go_ ,” he insists. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow?”

Scott stares at Isaac for a moment, and now he can hear the footsteps on the stairs, and Isaac really wishes Scott would hurry up and answer because he doesn’t want to slam the door in his face, but he also doesn’t want his father to know that he had a friend over (a friend that he was making out with, no less).

“Yeah,” Scott says. “I’ll see you in school.”

Isaac smiles at him and closes the door softly before turning to see his father walk down the stairs.

And Isaac may not be a god, but if he gets to kiss Scott every day for the rest of his life, then he’ll be okay.


End file.
